Episode Edition: Coda
by AlexKoff
Summary: The sail on Lake George. Short little piece.


AUTHOR'S NOTE**: **Takes place directly after "Coda." It's been done a million times, I know, but here we are again: the moonlight sail on Lake George. Written as a belated Valentine's Day gift for ElsieJo and based off of a paragraph in "What Temporal Prime Directive?" where she described this very scene.

DISCLAIMER**: **Paramount owns these lost souls.

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EPISODE EDITION: CODA

BY: ALEX KOFF

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Kathryn gently swirled the champagne in her glass, completely engrossed in the rising of the bubbles. She watched them carefully, as though they might, at any second, communicate to her the words that her brain could not.

She could feel the heat of Chakotay's stare and, somehow, she could feel the conflict within him as if it was her own.

It _was_ her own, she decided.

Or, rather, it was theirs.

"Chakotay…" she began, her eyes still glued to the bubbles. "I don't know what to say."

"I thought I had lost you," he choked.

The emotion in his voice forced her eyes up to meet his. "But you didn't," she soothed, reaching out for his hand. "You didn't."

"I still feel kind of shaky, like I might wake up and find you gone again."

Kathryn swallowed the lump in her throat. The image of him holding her, begging her to stay alive hadn't left her mind, and she didn't count on it ever leaving. The desperation on his face, the raw emotions in his voice. She had been just as helpless to save him as he had been to save her.

"You're not going to wake up," she said softly. "We're okay."

Chakotay nodded but looked away from her.

She stood up slowly, careful not to rock the boat and send them tumbling into the lake. She gently moved to sit beside him, once again taking his hand in her own. She brought it to rest on her lap, caressing it tenderly like a delicate piece of china – as if his body was as fragile as his emotions. She studied the crevices of his hand, committing every one to memory.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, clutching onto her hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Her heart shattered.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he whispered.

He was about to force them down a familiar route – it was inevitable. It was an old, tired conversation and she would use the same old, tired tactics to deflect him. "Please don't do this, Chakotay," she pleaded softly. "Let's just enjoy tonight. I cheated death, remember?"

He smiled at her, but his eyes remained dull. "I remember." He removed his hand from hers and placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into him. She wasn't strong enough to resist.

Engulfed in his warmth and compromised by champagne, she slipped out of her captain's mask. The weight of the day came crashing down upon her and she shuddered. The sight of her father, the sound of his voice. The memories of her deaths. The witnessing of her funeral. She felt herself go cold and scooted closer to him, desperate for the warmth that radiated from his very spirit.

He pulled her closer and for a nanosecond, Kathryn felt the walls that separated them come tumbling down.

Quickly, she pulled away from him.

Instantly, she regretted it.

"We can't do this," she said, standing up and returning to her seat across from him.

Anger flashed over his features and she saw him try to control it. "If our experience today taught us anything, it's that our time is limited," he started, his words quiet and drawn out. "Our days are numbered. How long are you going to push me away, Kathryn? You're throwing away a life together in favor of a life of loneliness." His words were steady, controlled, but she saw clearly the hurt in his eyes.

She needed to stay strong, for both their sakes. "If today has taught us anything… it has reminded us that we _are_ compromised, already. Our feelings for each other have already compromised us. If we let it go any further, we won't be able to do our jobs, Chakotay."

"That's bullshit," he said, looking away from her, struggling to control his tears. He stood up and climbed onto the quay.

The moment he was out of the boat, she missed him.

She wanted to ask him to come back, and it took everything she had within her to resist the urge.

He looked back, giving her the chance to change her mind.

She looked away, pressing her eyes shut as she heard his footsteps grow faint. The doors of the holodeck swooshed shut and she pressed her palms against the side of her head, gathering herself. She got up and shut down the program, slowly making the trek back to her quarters.

When she got inside, she pressed herself against the gray wall that separated them; a tangible manifestation of the many barriers that kept them apart. She closed her eyes and strained to hear his movement, forcing her mind to shut out any noises that were not his.

She could hear him shuffling through his quarters. The sound wasn't as muffled as it usually was; he was louder tonight than most nights.

He was angry.

At her.

"I'm sorry Chakotay," she whispered.

She pressed her hand to the wall, almost believing that she could calm his spirit by her sheer force of will. She felt her eyes well up and she leaned her weight against the metal that separated her from him, allowing herself to slowly sink to the floor, never letting her hand or her ear lose contact with it.

The wall did its job; it supported her. It held her up when all she wanted to do was come crashing down. Chakotay didn't understand that, but she did. She understood the purpose of the wall.

The noise coming from his quarters lost itself to a gradual silence. She pressed her ear closer, straining even harder to hear him, but she found only silence. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them close, imagining that it was his arms wrapped around her instead of her own.

She could have sworn she heard him sigh. It was a broken man's sigh.

=/\=

He pressed himself against the gray wall that separated him from her, desperate to hear the sound of her movement, desperate for affirmation that she was on the other side, alive.

He heard nothing.

He pressed his palm against the metal, convinced that if he pressed hard enough, his spirit could reach out and touch hers. Perhaps touch that hidden part of her that she kept locked away from him, locked away from everyone. Maybe in the silent tranquility of her quarters she could allow her spirit to wander.

Maybe it would wander up to his.

He sighed. It was involuntary and it was a deep, miserable sigh.

A symptom of the dejection that threatened to consume him.

He shook his head and turned away from the wall, instantly making a decision without considering the consequences. He left his quarters and went to hers, keying in the override without thinking.

He stepped inside.

"Kathryn?" he said softly.

He got no response, but he could hear quiet weeping. He followed the sound and found her balled up on the ground, pressed against the wall.

"Please, Chakotay," she begged through her sobs. "Go away. I can't be strong enough for both of us right now."

All of his anger melted away at the sight of her.

He nodded, crestfallen because he knew exactly what he had to do. He knelt down next to her and pulled her into him. She stiffened, but he tightened his hold.

"It's okay, Kathryn," he whispered.

She shook her head against his chest. "We can't do this."

"I know," he replied, stroking her back, tears welling his eyes. "I know."


End file.
